


look away

by ShaneShenanigans



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Ambiguously unhappy ending, Angst, First Kiss, M/M, Tired!Jim, powerbottom!Jim, sad!jim, sex in the back of a limousine because i said so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-15 09:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17526323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaneShenanigans/pseuds/ShaneShenanigans
Summary: finding comfort in the places you tried not to find it.





	1. remember to smile

**Author's Note:**

> I'll start by apologizing. I'm posting this in two parts because it took me longer to finish than I intended. I started this last week the day after 5x3 came out, and it made itself a bit longer than I wanted. It was really important to me that I got it out before tomorrow (before 5x4) because canon is inevitably going to tear it to shreds, but the second half, while written, is completely unedited and just isn't presentable yet.
> 
> So, since this has most of the stuff canon is probably going to make irrelevant, I decided to post the first half. I'm really busy tomorrow and likely won't be able to edit and post the second half until at least Friday morning. Again, I'm sorry. I know this by itself isn't exactly the most exciting thing to read, but I hope to get the second part up long enough for interest to hold.
> 
> Other than that, this was meant to be a quickie that turned into something a bit longer! Story of my life! I hope you enjoy!

It took twenty-six hours to find all of the survivors.

More specifically it took two hours, and then twenty-four more were spent digging through rubble and calling out names and titles until his throat was dry and sore to no avail. At five hours those with him started slowing down, at ten they started dropping off to help those who’d already been found and were injured. By twenty it was just him and Harvey, and by twenty-three Harvey got a call from Lucius and excused himself to return to the precinct.

Twenty-six hours, and Jim Gordon finally gave up.

He couldn’t make it up to the room where Hunter had been when he left him. The stairs were blown out and there was no way to climb through the floor despite the hole blown through it. They’d already searched it, but they’d taken the ladders to another area since then. So, worn and covered in dust, he sat down on a still in-tact bed frame in the room below it. He stared at the ground, at his foot, pushing the dust around, expecting to find some piece of him. The badge Jim had given him, hell the can of uneaten pineapples or any such sign. They hadn’t found his body, but they hadn’t exactly been looking for bodies.

His mind drifted once again to the events of that night. Trying, somehow, to work out who could have been responsible. Oswald? He was there, and while Jim didn’t officially put anything past that man this certainly wasn’t his style, and he didn’t benefit from it at all. Barbara, but there was no way she’d show just to watch it happen, and it certainly wasn’t like her, either. But if it wasn’t someone who’d been to Haven before…

He took a deep breath, and released it slowly. He wanted someone to blame, someone tangible that he could get his hands on, but the answer was obvious. It had to have been a trap. Whoever tipped them off to begin with, wherever the word started. No one could have gotten enough bombs like that in under their noses after they moved in. They were there from the moment all of those people moved in and started to rebuild their lives.

The only way to find out who did it was to follow that string, but that could take weeks, and certainly whoever was behind it had covered their tracks. Harvey kept telling him he needed to take a break, but there was no time for that. Even now, sitting here dejectedly in the middle of a disaster, he was wasting time.

He closed his eyes, hands over his mouth as they started to shake. He’d been inside just before the explosion. If he hadn’t gone out to meet Oswald, if Barbara hadn’t shown up before he went back in…

…he pushed his hands back through his hair. His palms brushed over his eyes and became smeared wet with tears he didn’t know were forming.

The things he saw in the ninety seconds or less that followed the explosion were seared into his mind. The fire, the debris falling, clanking against the pavement around them. Harvey was on the ground, groaning in agony, Barbara wasn’t moving.

Oswald was just lifting his head and the first word out of his mouth was “Edward?” 

Oswald, tenacious and resilient as he was, had gotten up only seconds after Jim, just as unharmed, just as shocked. Jim remained completely still as a whine came from behind the tent that had caved under the force of the explosion.

“Edward!” Oswald bent down as low as he could, patting his shins. Jim watched the dog run to him, for safety, or comfort. The dog looked okay. For a moment he remained fixated on that fact. _The dog looked okay._

Harvey was sitting upright now, seemed to be gathering himself. Almost in a trance, Jim took a long stride in his direction and reached out a hand. Harvey took it, allowing Jim to help him to his feet.

Barbara still hadn’t moved, and Harvey still needed his support to stand, but Jim looked at her chest long enough to make sure she was breathing.

Anything to resist looking up at the burning windows.

They didn’t have enough water to put out the fire, but the longer it took for it to go out, the longer they’d have to wait before searching for survivors or supplies and the more at-risk anyone still alive inside would be. He tried not to think about the unlikelihood that anyone was alive to begin with.

“Jim…” Harvey’s voice was weak, sounding just how Jim felt. “…what the hell are we gonna do?”

As if on cue, only moments after he said it, the sky cracked open. First a few drops, and then in only seconds it was pouring rain all around them.

Jim and Harvey shared a look, Harvey still hanging on him. Harvey gave him a nod to assure he could stand on his own two feet now.

“All right!” Jim shouted, but his voice shook. He stepped forward as those who’d been outside gathered around him, shocked and lost, and knew he had to look as though he weren't. His bottom lip quivered as the words he needed to say swam around in his head, searching for the strength to force them out.

"Everyone..." he started weakly, “...start gathering what supplies we can. As soon as the fire dies down we have to go in and see if there are any survivors." He didn't let his voice break by the end, but he found himself raising his hand to his face to wipe the rain water from his eyes as if it were tears. It was coming down even harder now, and if his expression had faltered, no one had seen it.

“Under here!” A familiar voice over the rain called Jim’s attention, and he turned his head to find Oswald having re-established one of the partially fallen tents as a shelter. He and his dog were already huddled beneath it.

Jim took a deep breath, part of him wanting to avoid wasting any more time. But he couldn’t disagree with the need for temporary shelter from the downpour, at least until the flames died out. He nodded to the others, gesturing for them to join Oswald, watching them eagerly obey.

Barbara remained just a few feet away, lying still. A puddle was already forming around her face, the right side of it nearly submerged. Hurriedly, he crouched to checked her pulse and found that it was steady. He then slipped his arms underneath her knees and shoulders to lift her up, and carried her under the tarp to place her on two side-stacked crates. He noticed Oswald watched warily from just a few feet away, and saw him inch closer from the corner of his eye.

“Is she alive?” He asked.

“Yes,” Jim side-eyed him. “Don’t get any ideas," he warned.

Oswald’s gaze shifted away, to the soaking-wet group of Jim’s men and others who just happened to be outside. He then looked to the still burning flames fighting the rain in the blown out windows of what once was Haven.

“Of course not,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically hushed, barely audible above the pounding rain. 

Somewhere behind them Jim could hear Harvey dutifully directing the others. He was sure he should have been there, but for just a few moments, leaning over Barbara’s unconscious body, he couldn’t move.

“Jim…” Oswald cleared his throat, and Jim twitched at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. He looked back at it, some of the tension disappearing when Oswald squeezed. “…Go on, I won’t do anything.”

Jim looked at him, watched the corner of his lips curve up into what may have been trying to be a comforting smile. It never failed that just when Jim was sure Oswald had gone off the deep end, his humanity showed itself. Normally it didn’t matter, he couldn’t let it matter. Oswald was Oswald, humanity or no he was an enemy. But right now Jim was weak, and that tiny twitch of a smile swam through his bones from the top of his spine and pooled warmly in his stomach.

He didn’t bother telling Oswald he wasn’t that worried. Barbara was the one who wanted Oswald dead, not vice-versa. He hadn't been sitting there on his knees beside her to protect her. It was merely because he couldn't yet bring himself to stand. Now, taking a deep breath, he pushed himself to his feet, and now found Oswald standing directly before him.

“Keep your distance,” Jim said, gesturing toward Barbara.

“She’ll live.” Oswald assured, and with that, Jim passed him, bumping his shoulder just gently to get around one of the guards standing directly behind him. With that, he joined Harvey at the lead.

It took thirty hours for Jim Gordon to finally return to the GCPD.

According to the best doctor they still had, Barbara had a concussion, but should have been fine. Jim had them call her people to come for her. He couldn’t have her going after Oswald when things were in this state. She was no doubt awake by now, but he expected she still had enough humanity not to launch an attack until they recovered.

With city hall emptied of people but still stocked with some supplies, Penguin remained to dictate how many of them would be transferred to assist. Since all of his people were now Jim’s people, however precious few of them were left, it was the only thing that made sense for the time being. Jim was happy to take advantage of it, and the longer Oswald was enjoying the attention and gratitude, the more he’d be willing to offer.

No one noticed Jim when he walked in through the front. He was quiet, dragging his feet, not exactly making an entrance. They were too busy, and maybe he was too dirty to be recognizable. He could see his hair falling out of place and hanging in front of his eyes, and his hands were coated in dirt- no doubt the rest of him was as well. He walked slowly along the far wall, unnoticed, trying to contain his anger at whispers of no longer strained food supplies from those who were lucky enough to make it out alive.

‘There are still good people in Gotham’ had never before been such a hard thing to convince himself.

Jim didn’t see Harvey, Harper, or Lucius. He’d scanned the room for Bruce as well, but he didn’t think Bruce had any idea what had happened yet. If he did, he would have shown up with some demand to help.

In fact, as he looked around the room, he only found one familiar face in the crowd.

Oswald Cobblepot, sitting behind a desk that formerly belonged to a detective who was long gone since the bridges collapsed. It was covered in books and papers, and Oswald was seemingly going through them all with diligence.

He tilted his head, almost unable to believe his eyes, and approached slowly, dragging his tired feet.

“Oswald,” he greeted, carefully, raking his eyes over the obscure scene once again. Some part of him wasn’t sure he wasn’t dreaming this. 

Oswald looked up, a stack of pages in his hand, sighing harshly at the interruption, or maybe just in frustration about the busy work.

“Jim,” he greeted with as much enthusiasm before looking back down at a filled out notebook in his lap.

“What’s all this?” Jim asked. He didn’t really have to. He could tell it was a disorganized version of inventory.

Oswald sighed harshly. “Mr. Penn never got around to compiling all of these into one book before he defected and then he…” he gestured with his hand and Jim assumed it was his version of sign language for “died.”

“…Obviously I would have had him do this. But right now I’m the only one I trust with this kind of knowledge of my supply, so…” he huffed as he slipped a loose page into a thick book and slapped it shut.

“You’re doing this here?”

Oswald looked up at him, glaring. “How else am I going to figure out how much I can spare? You should be thanking me!”

“Right, of course…” Jim ceded immediately, nodding, and Oswald deflated his rage before it got started. “We won’t forget this.”

Oswald released a heavy sigh, and it sounded exactly like the one Jim had been holding in for months. He set down the stack of pages in his hand, then pushed his fingers back through his hair.

“You look like hell,” he said, glancing up at Jim again.

Jim’s eyes shifted away for a moment, then back to Oswald, noticing in contrast that he looked pristine as ever. He’d probably had a shower since the explosion, and shipped in some of his clothes along with the supplies.

“Had a late night,” Jim said, and by that he meant he hadn’t slept in days.

“Where do you live?” Oswald asked, and Jim furrowed his brow.

“What?”

“Do you have a home still? Is it here, or was it at Haven?” Oswald went on. Jim didn’t answer, still looked too confused to answer.

“What I’m saying, Jim, is that you should go home. Whatever that is to you.”

Jim felt some semblance of amusement at the suggestion, but failed to smile or show it in any way. Instead his eyes shifted to the chair on the opposite side of the desk. He didn’t know why it was there or what Oswald had been using it for, but he took a half-step and then collapsed into it.

He felt Oswald’s eyes on him as he leaned back, slouching, feet stretched out. He wasn’t relaxed. He’d never been more on edge in his life. But maybe it was good enough for everyone else if he simply looked that way.

“This is pretty much it,” Jim gestured vaguely around the main hall of the GCPD where they sat. “Since long before the bridges blew.”

Oswald scoffed, shook his head, clearly making some kind of judgement that he wasn’t verbalizing. Jim didn’t press. They’d long since both accepted, rejected, and fought each other’s differences. Understanding had become an agreement to not try to understand, at least for now.

“I doubt you slept here before then, though.” Oswald commented quietly, shuffling things around but still not appearing to have fully directed his attention back to his work.

“Not most days,” Jim shrugged.

Oswald took a deep breath, and looked Jim square in the eye. “Jim, are you going to find some water for a shower or am I going to have to take you back to city hall for one myself?”

Jim stared back at him with surprised eyes, blinking.

Oswald blinked too, expression turning to some form of embarrassment as he seemed to be replaying his own words in his head. He looked back down at the book in his hands, now appearing completely focused on the work.

“Is there enough water for that?” Jim asked after a few moments.

“Hard to justify using it for anything but drinking…” Oswald said, still looking down, “For you, I mean,” he shrugged. “But, let’s face it, Jim. There are a lot less mouths to feed than there were forty-eight hours ago.”

Jim’s face soured, and he looked away. He didn’t expect better from Oswald, but then again it was simply the reality, and Oswald wasn’t one to dance around or deny the bitter truth.

“With my help, you can afford it. And I think everyone here, myself included, would appreciate you taking care of yourself. Don’t need you collapsing the next time Barbara Kean sticks a gun in my face.”

“She’ll stay away for now,” Jim said, simply, quietly, still trying to put the death count out of his mind while also battling with whether or not he should.

“Thanks for that, by the way,” Oswald went on. “Seems like after all these years, you still can’t kill me.” He looked up at Jim, smiling a little.

Jim was almost taken off guard when he found himself smiling back. It was tight, and strained his face, he could feel the dirt and dust caked into the cuts on his jaw and cheek.

“Don’t count on it,” he couldn’t help but say, and then he pushed himself back to his feet. Oswald was right. If he wanted to keep things together, he had to look the part. He still didn’t have time to rest, but he at least needed to get cleaned up.


	2. what friends are for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. As expected, canon tore this fic to shreds. A little more than I was anticipating, in fact, though I don't know why I didn't anticipate it more. Anyway, I know I said Friday morning and it is in fact Saturday afternoon, and I apologize. I needed a minute after that episode, and I couldn't bring myself to look at this.
> 
> But, here we are, some sad porn I guess. Hope it's still enjoyable! 
> 
> I haven't replied to any of the comments on the first part yet, but I'm going to, and I want you guys to know I really, really appreciated them! They're a big reason I got to editing this as soon as I did, and it means the world!

Harvey was way ahead of him. He’d already met with Lucius and Harper and everyone else who had any hand in securing Haven to discuss where the tip had come from. Jim spent as much time taking in and sorting through the small amount of information he had as he did walking the square footage of the GCPD to speak to those that were left.

In a few hours, once enough hands were free from dealing with the wounded and scavenging supplies from the blast, they’d be making a move to follow those leads.

Harvey forbade Jim from joining the team going back to scavenge for supplies. It didn’t take as much convincing, as Jim was sure Harper and Harvey could handle something like that. It had been almost two days and he still hadn’t seen Bruce. Selina was gone as well, though, and Jim had faith those two could take care of themselves, especially together. Alfred seemed calm despite the circumstances, but Jim had far too much on his mind to be concerned with why Bruce’s guardian wasn’t more concerned.

He found himself waiting.

He sat alone in the war room he’d made out of his office, going over the possibilities of who their enemy could have been time and time again. Going over the mistakes he made, the things he could have checked on, done better. Pushing away the thought of specific names he wished had been outside during the blast in favor of mourning them all equally.

“Jim?” Lucius’s voice broke the spell, but he didn’t have the energy to jump despite being startled.

“Penguin’s moving on. He wants to talk to you before he leaves.”

Jim sighed. He wasn’t in the mood to have Oswald remind him how much he owed him. Never had he missed the words “friends don’t owe friends, silly” as much.

“All right,” he agreed anyway.

“He’s got a limo out back,” Lucius said, tone blatantly critical. “I asked him if there was any way he could draw more attention to himself with Barbara Kean out for his head. He said he under no circumstances would he accept any less…” he paused, “…for his dog…”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Sounds like him. He has the dog with him?”

“Not yet. Harper convinced him to wait around while some of the orphaned kids finished up playing with him. It helps take their minds off things.”

Jim nodded as he passed Lucius, jacket slung over his shoulder. Oswald sure had gone soft for the time being. It was hard to ignore how prone to the influence of those around him he was. Maybe if Jim hadn’t seen him as nothing but an enemy, as part of a disease so early on, things could have been different.

But he’d done enough regretting his choices and feeling sorry for himself for a lifetime. So he made his way out front, certain this wouldn’t be the last time he’d have to put the past behind him when it came to Oswald Cobblepot.

o-o-o-o

The limousine was still outside, quiet. The engine wasn’t running, and the lights were off. The back windows were blacked out, but he could see easily through the passenger side window that it was currently driverless.

He approached the door furthest back slowly, reaching out for the handle and then pausing with his hand underneath it. It occurred to him that perhaps Oswald hadn’t just up and forgiven him for shooting his leg. It occurred to him that this could have been a trap.

The thought didn’t last long, the same way worrying about the threat of a tornado on a mildly windy day doesn’t last long. 

He opened the car door.

“There you are,” Oswald said, sitting across the seats, looking as comfortable as he might’ve in his own home. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming,” he grumbled, as if the very thought ruffled his feathers.

“After everything, it’s only fair to see you off,” Jim sighed. “And it’ll be nice to remember this moment the next time I see you down the barrel of a gun, won’t it?”

Oswald laughed, loudly, slapping his knee and everything and Jim found himself further warmed by the reaction. If there was still warmth left in Gotham, he didn’t expect this to be where he found it. But familiarity is a funny thing.

“Get in,” Oswald waved to him. A moment ago Jim might’ve refused, wished him well, shut the door. But something compelled him to do as he was told, and a moment later he was sitting in the back of a limo with Oswald Cobblepot in a city that was falling apart.

Oswald took a deep breath, and exhaled with a sigh. “Needless to say, there’s no longer a bounty on your head, but it’ll take time for the word to get around, so… best lay low for a week or so.”

“Gee, thanks.” Jim said on a heavy sigh. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

Oswald looked at him, opened his mouth and all that came out was a breath that got caught in his throat. He looked away again.

“Suppose there isn’t much to say,” he murmured after a moment. “No telling what tomorrow has planned for us… or whether or not we’ll live to see it…”

“Statistically speaking, you probably will,” Jim chimed in. Oswald laughed again, gentler this time.

“You too, old friend,” he said, and this time when he looked at Jim he didn’t look away. Jim didn’t either, perhaps only because he’d been looking at Oswald the whole time. Now Oswald just happened to be looking back, and that’s when Jim’s eyes got stuck. When Oswald’s eyes met his, when they held his gaze a little too long, when the realization that Oswald had gotten lost looking into Jim’s eyes set in and his warm smile turned into a nervous frown but he still couldn’t look away. That’s when Jim got lost too.

Jim was tired, more than he’d been in weeks, and maybe later he’d blame it on that. But right now Oswald was inches away from him, and he looked good. Clean, like he’d still been showering with the best soaps on a regular basis. Jim’s nostrils flared as he inhaled, and found that Oswald smelled good too— or something in this limo did. But he knew it wasn’t just the car, he’d smelled it before. Been drawn to it before, distracted by it before.

Oswald looked like everything he couldn’t be, shouldn’t ever be, should have hated. But right now it was something he wanted to reach out and touch. Not just because it was attractive, but because it was so, so far away.

What did he have to lose?

He inched closer, listening to Oswald’s breath pick up. He leaned across the seat between them, lifting one hand to the side of Oswald’s face. Oswald stared at him, eyes wide. Somewhere between shocked and terrified and maybe just a tiny bit curious. It was that spark of curiosity that did Jim in, the piece of Oswald that would always take the more dangerous road if there was something shinier at the end of it.

“Jim…” Oswald whispered on a breath but then stopped breathing when Jim kissed him. A sharp inhale, and then he froze, lips and body stiff but still warm, still soft as Jim’s hand slid down from his cheek, knuckles curling to sweep down his neck.

He pulled back slowly, giving Oswald time to process it, because by the way he still hadn’t moved he seemed like he needed it. He backed away, licking his lips, and maybe sucking the bottom one between his teeth for just a moment because that felt better than he expected—

“Jim,” a hoarse, breathy voice and suddenly Oswald had him by his lapels, pulling him back and slanting their lips together. It was sloppy, so Jim raised his hand back to the side of Oswald’s face to help guide him. Oswald was all over him immediately, pulling him closer by his shoulders and dragging himself across the seat to get closer all at once. For a few seconds, Jim let him. During those seconds, he wondered if he should stop this.

Before he could come up with any reasons why, Oswald moaned against his mouth.

He felt the vibration against his lips, zig-zag over his tongue, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He raised both hands to Oswald’s shoulders, pushed him back hard against the seat, and then swung one leg over top of his lap.

“Jim—,” Oswald said his name for the third time and three times was enough to make Jim certain he didn’t mind. He wanted to hear it more. Higher, lower, distorted on a scream and drown out by heavy breath. He needed it. He was stuck here, just waiting, and he couldn’t fucking sleep. This had to be the next best thing.

Oswald melted beneath him when he covered his mouth with his own again, releasing a whine at the touch of Jim’s tongue to his lips, the way they dropped open eagerly to let him in.

Maybe it was better.

Oswald tasted like dry wine. It figures he’d have been drinking, everyone deals with a crisis in their own way.

Jim felt Oswald’s fingers shyly dance over his lower thigh, maybe without Oswald even really knowing it, and he had to break the kiss to take a deep breath. It was torture, realizing all at once how much he wanted Oswald to touch him.

“Jim, what are we doing?” Oswald finally found time to ask the question he’d probably been searching for an opening for since the first kiss.

Jim didn’t answer right away, unable to resist the urge to slide his hand up Oswald’s neck to press his thumb into his open mouth, rubbing it against his tongue. Oswald’s eyes were wide and questioning, but he moved his tongue against Jim’s thumb anyway. Jim stared at him, watched his gaze falter with almost a sad confusion, and then let his hand fall to his side.

“Sorry,” Jim said, quickly, a sudden burst of reality rushing through him as he moved to get off of Oswald’s lap—

“Jim!” Oswald caught him by the waist, hand sliding down to tightly grip his hip and try to keep it in place. It gave Jim pause, and he looked back at Oswald’s face, searching for something in it, an answer to a question he knew he couldn’t ask.

Oswald answered it as if he had asked it, lifting his hips off the seat and grinding them up against Jim, pressing him down by his hips, head lulling to the side as his eyes rolled back, mouth dropping open as he gasped.

“Stay,” he said, and Jim didn’t have to be told twice. He sat flush against Oswald’s lap, pressing his hips down before rolling them up against Oswald’s stomach. Oswald looked straight back at him and Jim was slowly, gladly losing himself in those eyes. The intensity, wide and full of emotion, so very alive.

He didn’t think they had much time. Too long, and Lucius would definitely send someone to make sure he was still alive, or come looking himself. But he was too far in it, he wasn’t about to just stop. He could feel Oswald’s cock rubbing against the underside of his thigh and he knew he couldn’t stand to leave here without it.

He took a deep breath, and leaned in. Past Oswald’s lips, cheek brushing against his and feeling him quiver as his lips touched Oswald’s ear.

“I want you to fuck me,” he said against it, teeth scraping over the lobe before he pulled it into his mouth.

Oswald shook in response, eyes fluttering shut as he squeezed Jim’s waste and bucked his hips up into his ass.

“I…” Oswald said, licking his lips as he cut himself off and reached one frantic arm out to the side. Jim watched it, confused, until he pressed down on some sort of pressure lever, and a compartment opened in the door. From inside it he pulled a fairly large tube full of clear liquid, and held it up so Jim could see it.

It was lube.

Jim stared at it, mouth falling open. Oswald looked nervous for some reason, and it took Jim a moment to react. Why did Oswald have lube stored in the back seat of his car? …Who else was he doing this kind of thing with?

He shook the thought away, and snatched the tube from Oswald’s hand. He wasn’t about to start complaining on the basis of some unfounded jealousy. It had just taken him off guard.

Hurriedly, he pulled at the belt on his pants. He could feel Oswald’s eyes on him as he worked, the dark, wanting look in his eyes as he watched. They widened considerably when Jim shoved his pants midway down his thighs and wrapped his hand around his cock as it bounced out, leaning in to kiss Oswald’s neck as he moaned.

It took some doing to get his pants below his knees, but Oswald eagerly helped, though he seemed apprehensive to touch Jim anywhere else.

“Please…” Jim said, voice cracking as he took one of Oswald’s wrists gently in his hand, guiding it between his legs. He buried his face in the crook of Oswald’s neck at the cool, apprehensive touch slowly wrapping around him, starting to pull. He fumbled at Oswald’s slacks, grumbling at the odd construction of fasteners that couldn’t have just been as simple as buttons because this was Oswald and his clothes were ridiculous. He moaned as Oswald squeezed him as if holding on for his life.

He grabbed Oswald’s cock the moment it was exposed, moving his hand up the shaft until he drag his thumb over the head. Oswald’s hand fell away like he’d lost control over it, crying out and letting his head drop to the side as he bucked into Jim’s hand. Jim grunted and leaned forward, taking Oswald’s limp hand by the wrist again and bringing it back between them. Oswald seemed to be having a hard time maintaining control of his limbs, and it wasn’t unpleasant to watch, but Jim needed him to last. He hooked both hands under Oswald’s knees and tugged him forward so their cocks were flush with each other, tightly pressed as they moaned in unison.

Jim assisted Oswald in wrapping his hand around both of them at once, then popped the lid of the lube and squeezed it messily over both of them and Oswald’s fist. Oswald stared with his mouth open, mesmerized. He was looking at his hand moving like it was something he’d never seen before. But that couldn’t be. Why else would he have lube in his fucking limo?

Shaking away the thought, Jim turned the tube up-side-down and squeezed a generous amount onto his upturned fingers. He saw Oswald’s eyes flick up, watched his face turn even redder than it already was before he refocused his attention on his own hand.

Jim leaned in, kissing him gently on his unmoving lips as he reached back and pressed the cool gel against himself.

“Keep going,” he leaned passed Oswald’s lips and whispered encouragingly into his ear, working with his fingers in a sloppy rush. Oswald was sizeable— bigger than Jim might have guessed, at least. But he didn’t have time to make everything perfect, and maybe he didn’t care. Right now he just wanted Oswald inside him, even if it scared him how right it felt to want it.

Oswald released some manner of a whine or a grunt in question when Jim prodded his hand away. Hurriedly, Jim scooted his knees further up the seat, taking Oswald’s cock in his finger and thumb as he pushed forward to slip it between his thighs.

“Jim!” Oswald grabbed onto Jim’s hips as Jim lined himself up with the head. Jim took a deep breath, looking Oswald in the eyes to reassure him, but Oswald only shook and squeezed his eyes shut tightly as Jim’s body started to lower itself onto him.

“Oh… my god…” Oswald’s breathless voice drown out the discomfort, his fingers digging into Jim’s hips almost outweighing the pain in his ass.

“Jim,” Oswald said his name again. “Jim…” he gasped when Jim rose back up. “Jim!” Again when he fell back down until it seemed like his name was the only word Oswald knew. Just an incoherent mess of “Jim,” and “I…” and the occasional distorted plea until his hands slid down to Jim’s thighs and he pressed down, thrusting his hips up to meet with Jim’s ass and—

Jim didn’t realized he’d cried out until he found Oswald frozen, eyes wide with worry, shaking as he stared.

“Are you o— are you…?” Oswald stuttered, and Jim merely grunted, leaning forward again and burying his face in Oswald’s neck and hair as he started to bounce. The chanting of his name returned after only a few moments, and he loved it against his ear, loud enough to hear the harsh, shaking breaths in-between, loud enough to drown out everything else.

He wrapped his hand around himself, certain that Oswald couldn’t handle doing anything except hold tight to Jim’s hips. He loved it, he loved this.

He opened his eyes, moving his head back so he could see Oswald’s face. Oswald’s eyes were still shut tight, mouth still hanging open, still panting as Jim started to bounce at a faster pace. He felt like he could come, and he wondered if Oswald was holding on by a thread just for him, just to meet him there.

“Oz…” Jim whispered, and Oswald’s eyes popped open even though Jim hadn’t stopped moving.

“Come,” Jim said, raising a quick hand to the side of Oswald’s face, thumb dipping into his mouth as he held on.

Oswald’s bottom lip quivered like he was trying to say something.

“Come for me,” Jim said again, his own voice shaking now as he felt himself reaching the edge.

Jim froze when Oswald stiffened, crying out as he threw his arms around Jim’s back, pulling him forward and hugging him tight, thrusting his hips up into him once… twice… three times…

“Jim…” Oswald whined, but it felt far away as not a moment later Jim was shoving Oswald’s shirt and tie up to his neck, leaning back and pumping himself the last few inches until he watched himself splatter against Oswald’s chest, again and again.

It started to drip down his stomach, and Jim fell against him, feeling Oswald’s cock slip out of him with a pop and the cum following, cool against his friction-burned thighs. He stayed there for a few moments, laying against Oswald, both of them just a pile of heavy breath and holding on tight.

It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before the far door of the limousine suddenly swung open.

“Penguin, sir?”

Jim’s eyes grew three sizes, and he froze. He was facing the opposite direction, head resting against Oswald’s chest. He couldn’t move, mortified, and he certainly couldn’t speak—

“Sorry, boss, I didn’t know you were—,”

“What is it?” Oswald barked, and Jim tensed when he felt a comforting hand lift to rest on his lower back. Whoever it was hadn’t seen Jim’s face, wouldn’t recognize him if he didn’t turn his head.

“The… um,” the man cleared his throat, “Your dog’s getting tired out by those kids. I think he’s ready to go.”

Oswald heaved a sigh. “Go get him, then. Bring him to me in five minutes. Until then, make sure my friend and I have some privacy.”

“Uh… how do I do that?”

Jim felt Oswald literally quake with rage, and it was hard not to laugh despite the situation.

“Just make sure no one’s around! Obviously, idiot! Now go get my dog!” Oswald shouted, and Jim heard some frantic stumbling before the car door slammed shut, and they were alone in the dark once again.

“You should be nicer,” Jim said, raising his head and sitting up straight. “Didn’t they all defect because you’re an asshole?”

Oswald rolled his eyes, hard, grumbling something unintelligible before his eyes drifted down to their laps where they were still both pantless, and Jim’s cum had dripped just beyond his naval.

He took a deep breath. “So… that was…” he paused like the words got caught on his tongue, and looked up to Jim’s eyes.

“…we should get cleaned up,” Jim said, failing to hold the eye contact.

“Right,” Oswald nodded, sighing. “Well… I hope you feel a little better now.”

Jim rolled off him, reaching down to snatch his pants off the floor. “…thanks.”

He pulled the hem over his feet, then his ankles, the belt still fed through the loops, the buckle jingling as he tugged them up to his knees until his feet stuck out the end. Beside him he could feel Oswald shifting, heard the sound of a zipper.

“Oswald, I…” he started speaking before he realized it, and stopped pulling at his pants for a moment. He turned his head to find Oswald looking back at him expectantly. “…I’m sorry,” he said, tongue nearly tripping over the words.

Oswald’s expression softened, lips twitching into a sad smile. “Don’t be sorry, Jim,” he said, adjusting his suit jacket, having otherwise almost entirely righted his wardrobe. Jim knew his cum was still on Oswald’s stomach, though. They didn’t have anything to wipe it off with.

“What are friends for?” Oswald finished, and Jim sat still, looking back at his impossibly sincere expression. Breathing in deeply, he leaned in and kissed Oswald gently on the lips. Oswald kissed him back carefully, with as much chastity, and then ended up being the one to pull away.

“You should get back before you’re missed and my idiot driver puts two and two together,” Oswald said.

Jim sighed harshly and tugged his pants up the rest of the way, frustratedly pulling the ends together to button them and then yanking on his belt.

“Let him,” he grumbled.

“Try to walk normally,” Oswald said, still smirking when Jim looked at him with some surprise.

Jim’s lips cracked into a small smile “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said.

It was with that that Jim pushed the car door open, and got out. 

Oswald looked after him, watched him close the car door without another word, watched the dark silhouette outside the car look one way, then the other, and then head back toward the building.

Alone again, he took a deep breath, drooped his head and buried his face in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Oswald is sad... it seemed fitting. I might add a second part to this at some point that resolves some of that and makes things a bit happier but it depends on canon. Either way, there's definitely some resolution for this slightly awkward encounter for them in the future, even if I fail to write it!
> 
> Also, if you're wondering why Oz has lube in his limo besides the fact that I needed to give them some, it's because he doesn't. He found it there when he stole the limo and off-handedly decided to leave it.


End file.
